Operation Nuclear
by Renegade Dick Grayson
Summary: Slade's journey to becoming DeathStroke begins here, as does the AI, Nuclear.
1. Prologue

**Opening**

Rushing towards The White House to inform President Reagan of a possible new threat to America, Larry Bell moved as fast as his little legs would carry him. A round and pudgy man, Bell wasn't much of a rusher. He'd usually prefer to make others make their ways to him, saving him time and effort while also allowing him to sit back and not coming across as weak once he had to begin his job. Bell wore a suit, worth about as much as watch which incidentally wasn't only a very expensive one, but one embedded with a GPS tracking device should he ever need extraction, being Deputy Director of the CIA wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Sure, he enjoyed his job to the degree that he was able to shrug it off whenever he returned to his security protected house and not have to worry about threats. However, the information he had come across had not only proven to be very volatile, but also extremely important.

Moving past the secretary in a hurry, Bell quickly and without hesitation, knocked on the door to the Oval Office, a breach of protocol? Yes. But needed to stabilise the situation? Absolutely.

Before almost being hauled away by Secret Service Agents, Reagan stops them and allows Bell in. Bell, panting and out of breath, quickly feels his own embarrassment creep up on him as he doesn't want to come across as weak, seeing as though that was his one most exhibited trait. Weakness.

Reagan wasn't the type of man to wait for Bell's confidence to raise and decided to quicken the pace. "You have important information?"

Bell, feeling like he had just forgot why he arrived in a hurry, quickly attempted to regain his breath in a noble but rather awkward, "Yes, Mr *breathes heavily* President, sir."

"And I need to know this so can you hurry up and explain why you needed to tell me this in person?" Reagan demanded.

"Because, sir, we have just received information concerning the Russians and the Chinese. A weapon created by the Chinese is about to be, or so we think, auctioned off to the Russians." Bell spoke fast and in a high pitcher and slightly annoying voice.

"What is this weapon?" Reagan asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"Our experts say that it is a computer system that can think! And are currently trying to confirm if it has anything Nuclear or biological within it." Bell answered back, having finally regained his breath.

"Oh Jesus. Shit. Ok, alright, I want this thing in our hands by the end of the week. You tell absolutely no one about this, you come to me and me directly. This gets out and it'll be chaos." Reagan panicked.

"Ok sir, alright, what do you want me to do?" Bell inquired nervously.

"I want you to sit on this, at least until I can get full and complete confirmation of this...what are they calling?" Reagan tried to rationalise his thoughts.

"That's the problem. They're calling it Nuclear."

 **2 days later...**

Major Samuels, a 58 year old, black haired and built figure with a distinctive scar down his hand is on the phone to President Reagan.

"With all due respect Mr President, we should be launching an attack on this site not scouting it."

"Major, I respect your opinion but I never asked it. Scout this site and if this weapon exists, and if the Russian are anywhere near it I will decide what to do with that information. Not you. I came to you because you are the head of espionage. Get it done or you're done." Reagan slammed the phone down.

"Sir, would you ple-" the line went dead.

Samuels held his head in his hands over his smooth and tounge-oiled wooden table, in doubt about the operation but desperate to keep his job.

 **Three days later...**

An American plane flies overhead in Congo, Africa. Samuels had to coordinate this recon mission at speed and under immense pressure. In the cockpit there sat a pilot and Samuels. In the fuselage sat two agents. Samuels had hand picked them both for this mission, impressed by both of their skills, although they were not the first picks, they were the only two available.

One was a 20 year old male, with blond hair, smooth skin, an athletic body and a deep but raspy voice. His name was Slade Wilson. Slade had been working with a HIVE unit, which was a new branch of the American military, specialising in assassination and espionage in which Slade was a very high ranking member. The other was a 25 year old female who Samuels had previously worked with, she had silver hair, an angry facial expression and very piercing green eyes. Her name was Adeline Kane. She was an undercover operative for four years and never lifted her cover, or was even caught. She worked for a very old and secretive branch of the military, Cold Claw.

It was far too dangerous for a landing approach so the two had to HALO jump down, if they weren't already spotted. Samuels had absolutely no idea about the type of defences the Russians might've set up so they were going in blind. Not only blind, but with no allowance to be there.

Samuels walked over to Adeline and spoke to her although Slade couldn't hear it. However, he could see Samuels hand Adeline a knife. Curious, Slade almost opened his mouth but quickly closed it when Samuels walked over to him.

"Slade, this isn't like Iraq. We have no eyes so you will be meeting with a guide, Bill Wintergreen. He'll get you to the base. As soon as he does I want you to kill and bury him, remember, we were never here. You and Adeline will not engage the enemy. At all. Do you understand?"

"Yes Major," Slade replied, "how are we getting out?"

"We will be at the far end of the jungle, there's an immigrant ship there. You get onboard and kill the smugglers. You've got the ship and Adeline will direct you from there."

"Ok sir."

The light turned green. Adeline and Slade stood up. The bay door opened and the light changed again. The two jumped out and fell thousands of feet, plummeting to the ground with speed.

Once they reached the ground, they took off their oxygen masks and HALO gear. They then activated their beacons which drew them together and got Samuels on the radio.

"Samuels? We've landed, can you tell us how close we should be to the-" a footstep behind them.

Adeline turned and pushed the noisemaker against a tree, drawing her blade and holding it to their throat. "Who are you?"

"I'm the guide! I'm Wintergreen!" The man shouted in surprise.

"Shh!" Adeline replied, prove that.

Meanwhile, Slade had been asking Samuel's for defining features of Wintergreen. After managing to confirm that this in fact Wintergreen, Adeline let's him go.

"Jesus Christ, what the hell am I involved in?" Wintergreen spluttered, trying to comfort his crushed tranchea.

Bill Wintergreen was a tall and slender man. He had very little hair on his head but a small and white goatee as well as a very large overcoat. Wintergreen also had a rather sharp but sheathed machete hanging from his belt, along with some water and a compass. Wintergreen wore a hunter hat got over his head and a pair of bright brown gloves.

"It doesn't matter, you're getting paid. Where is it?" Adeline replied coldly.

"Not far from here, we should be there by daybreak." Wintergreen explained.

"Lead the way," Slade signalled, "and stay quiet."

Wintergreen walked down a very narrow and dry path that made it easy to follow but hard whenever he lost his way, which happened often. Adeline's temper grew the more she walked and Slade detached himself completely from emotions.

Wintergreen attempted a conversation at one point, "Let's me guess, if anyone asks, you were never here and I get to keep my money?" Wintergreen inquired.

Getting no reply from Adeline but rather a glare, Slade decides to answer the question, "if we get there on time, now move."

Wintergeeen slowly nodded in agreement, accepting the answer with hesitation. "So what are we doing here?"

"You were paid to get us there. Do-" Slade began.

"Shut up." Adeline snapped, silencing them both.

The rest of the journey was spent trying to avoid speaking. They trudged through the jungle, studying surrounds thoroughly and casing the environment in search of cameras or guards, finding that it's impossible to see anything in the dark especially when it's well hidden in the jungle.

They eventually noticed a small red light on a far tree. This immediately triggered alarms in their heads. "This is as far as I go." Wintergreen quickly stated before attempting to turn around only to have a knife to his throat, curtesy of Adeline.

"You're coming with us." Adeline pushed him along to the dismay of Wintergreen.

Slade noticed that the path was getting more and more narrow, almost signalling an ambush. So Slade, quickly realising where they were heading, stopped Adeline and Wintergreen before using hand movement to signal a climb rather than a walk. They attempted to climb out of the extremely steep and rather dry ridge. Upon the reaching the top without breath nor time, they quickly made their way along the side, keeping low to avoid detection. Until they heard the heavy steps of the possible weapon. They all exchanged glances, rushed to a nearby bunker and then dropped to the ground. The steps were not only heavy and loud, but metallic and unnerving. What was this thing? And why was it stomping about already?

Adeline was the first to move after a full five minutes of silence and slowly but surely follow this sound. However, what they didn't realise is the bunker they were hiding in was a footstep of this monsterous machine. Slade and Wintergreen soon followed suite but Wintergreen snatched Slade's pistol away and held the barrel to his head.

"I know what's down there. I know what your orders will be. I'm gone." Wintergreen whispered in a shaky and nervous tone.

"You kill me and I guarantee you will be hunted down and killed by the US, alternatively, you can give me my gun and I promise you I will protect you."

"Lies."

"It's the only option you have."

"I'll take my chances."

"Would you rather I tell you that my pistol is empty?"

"No it isn't," Wintergreen redirected his attention giving Slade the chance to turn, trap Wintergreen in an armlock and disarm him within a blink.

"Now listen closely. I'm more forgiving than her, but if you try that again I will kill you. I wasnt lying, I want to protect you, I had no intention of killing you but now..." Slade stretched Wintergreen's arm backwards exhibiting a very high-pitched but also somehow quiet groan.

"I get it, I get it, can you get off my arm now?" Wintergreen spat.

Slade let him go. Wintergreen gave him a scowl but turned and continued down the path. Slade picked up his pistol and followed.

Adeline had found a little nest to look over at the site from. Once Slade and Wintergreen had caught up, they saw Adeline already making a call to, presumably Major Samuels.

"-you brought him into this, I don't want t-alright fine. Out." Adeline replied with more venok in her voice than the snake currently sneaking up on her. It moved to bite but Slade stopped it, exchanging a glance with Adeline who turned to see the action. Her eyes were empty and cold, almost inhuman. Slade's eyes however, had a glint of light and colour. He didn't like that Wintergreen had an expiration date but accepted that he would have to fake Wintergreen's death, he never liked killing innocent people.

Adeline and Slade used their binoculars and looked over the terrain at Jiao Li and Dimitri Petrov. The two were discussing something but what really caught Slade's attention was the three people behind Petrov. He recognised them as The Spiders. The Spiders were a group of two males, Vladimir Anatoly and Victor Boris, and a female, Alga Vera. The Spiders were rumoured to have been trained by The League Of Assassins, an elite group of assassins that are part of a sacred order, who Slade had come into contact with some time ago. But Slade also noticed another group of individuals, who Adeline recognised as The Network. The Network were a group of experimental beings that were almost certainly all dead due to a bombing years ago. These were very dangerous forces, and practically ghosts. This had turned from a reconnaissance mission to a profiling mission. Slade made an immediate call to Samuels.

"Major, I call for an abort. Bomb the hell out of this place and be done with it."

"Slade? What's happened?"

"The Spiders are here, and a group of experimental disasters I think are known as The Network. We need to go before they see us, sir."

"No. We need confirmation of the Nuclear project."

"Sir, this is suic-"

"Get it done." Samuels then closed the link.

Slade, rather angry at the prospect of being expendable, looked again for a sign of Nuclear. Although this time, he got an eyeful. A masssive piece of machinery somehow walked off behind a mountain. Slade only got a glimpse at the back of it but it seems to actually walk. Slade tried to look closer but his binoculars must've reflected off a light because one of the superhumans pointed at him and turned invisible. "Shit!" Slade spat before tapping Adeline on the shoulder and rushing off.

"Why are we running?" Wintergreen asked worried.

"Doesn't matter let's get out of here!" Slade rushed.

Adeline followed without hesitation and Wintergreen decide to look out over the terrain and see what they saw. However his shoulder suddenly felt very painful and before he realised it, he was on the ground with a spinning head and blood shooting out of him.

Adeline caught up to Slade as they heard a gunshot, assuming Wintergreen was dead. The two got faster, and when far enough away, ran even faster. They came to a bridge with no cover whatsoever but with the sounds of helicopter blades approaching they saw no other option. They moved across the shaky and unsteady bridge, conscious of time. The helicopter flew overhead but this only further encouraged Slade and Adeline to move faster across the bridge. However, once Slade reached the end of the bridge, a mysterious man walked out of darkness and revealed himself.

The man was 7-foot-tall and carrying an M16 rifle. He wore a grey hockey mask to hide his face and a tight suit. His suit was grey and red, as were his gauntlets. He also had a metal stick with two titanium blades and a ball between them on both ends of it.

The man matched the description of DeadBorn. DeadBorn was the ex-leader of Cold Claw, Adeline's old unit.

Slade drew his weapon for comfort and set his sights on DeadBorn.

"Little help?" DeadBorn said in a blank voice devoid of emotion.

"Why the hell would anyone want to help you out?" Slade replied before realising he might as well not have been there.

"Isn't that right, Adeline?"

Slade turned around only for Adeline to shoot him in the shoulder at point blank range. "I'm sorry Slade, you're out of your depth." Adeline took Slade's weapon and shot him again in the stomach, exhibiting a cry of pain from Slade.

"Why?!" Slade demanded.

"You had potential. Still, you helped us freeze the U.S for a time. I think you deserve something for that." Adeline kicked the hunched over Slade in the ribs and stabbed him in the back, pinning him to the ground. "I'll give you, ten seconds. Ten."

Slade tore the knife out from his back and saw the numbers he was up against. Slade turned and pushed himself up and ran off into the jungle. "Five!" Slade had barely made it a few steps before he saw that he was running into a dead end. "Three!" With some fast thinking, Slade cut the ropes of the bridge and grabbed onto the wooden panels as the bridge swung down through the valley and just before it impacted with the wall of rock, he lightly kicked off the bridge and fell into the valley below, landing in the water with a heavy splash, knocking the consciousness out of him immediately. Adeline looked down at the river and faintly saw Slade's body being dragged away by the current. "Let's go, he's dead."

 **Operation: Nuclear**

I've written the whole story but I would really appreciate if you would review this and tell me what to change.

New chapter every Friday.


	2. Do You Really Want To Be An Agent?

Slade floats adrift, unconscious and bleeding. The tides carrying him away, mixing his blood with the water. Pain and shock filling his sense like his lungs began to fill with water as a rather large drop caused him to sink underwater. His body was like stone as he lost control of it and succumbed to his fate. However, just as all hope seemed lost, a hand grabbed his and dragged him out the water. Although his vision was blurry, Slade could make out a black, male figure who was preforming some basic CPR to little effect. It was when he injected Slade was a shot of, what he assumed was adrenaline, did Slade's lungs fire out water through his mouth. The only problem was Slade attempted to look at the man only to meet the bottom of a boot and then darkness.

Waking up, Slade felt his body strained and contained. Slade made the assumption that he was zip-cuffed to a seat as his so called saviour sat opposite him.

"Why are you here?" The man spoke with a clear African accent but underneath it was a hidden Scottish voice.

"What?" Slade struggled to take in the poorly lit room he occupied.

It was the classic torture room, the wooden chair, zip-cuffs, low hanging light to desensitise victims, creaky wooden floorboards, white, bloodstained walls and a captor with a knife ready to extract information. Slade was trained to avoid scenarios like this not escape them.

"Why are you here?" The man asked again impatiently. "You are a US government agent?"

"Yes, a very important one who doesn't even know your name." Slade shook his head from side to side, trying to escape the nausea he felt.

"I'm not telling you my name Mr Wilson, but I'll ask again, why are you here?" The man snapped angrily.

"Do you just have a torture room set up for strangers who appear? Anyway, why did you help me?" Slade completely side stepped the question, still trying to regain his sight.

"It would've been worse to have a US agent in my back garden." The man replied swiftly.

"Suppose so, listen, I don't care who you are, what you've done or why you did it, I just need to contact my people and get out of here." Slade desperately tried to convince the man to let him go.

"No." The man replied with a deadpan expression.

"Ok, how can I convince you that I mean no harm?" Slade finally felt like he had done control and broke his thumb to escape the zip cuffs.

The man sat back for a minute, he hadn't really though of that. What could he do? Carve his own eye out? Nah. Cut off a finger? Nah. How about-but just while the man was thinking, Slade brought his fist around and hooked him in the jaw.

The man was no stranger to violence and in return made an attempt to stab Slade in the chest, only for Slade to deflect the knife with his forearm and headbutt the man in the nose, allowing a grunt of pain to escape from the man's trachea which was soon crushed by a jab from Slade and then a quick and swift kick to the stomach. The man fell back, completely immobilised but awake, as Slade tore the stitches the man had put in his back from the knife wound. Slade searched the man and found a key which presumably open the door. Slade picked the man up and opened the door, leaving the room and coming into the blinding sun.

It must've been quite a while since Adeline quite literally backstabbed him, perhaps a little under a day. Looking around, Slade decided to go to the main building, built of wood. It looked sturdy but also very dry. The river just off to the side must've been how he got there. The ground was brown and dry, but felt unsteady. Slade quickly concluded that he is probably in drugs of some kind, possibly painkillers. Slade carried the man to the main building and kicked the door open. The sign hanging down had 'PEABODY'S ARMS' written poorly in marker pen.

Slade dropped Peabody on the counter and looked around. The room was set up neatly and expertly. Gun racks were apart, held on plastic holders, with lights underneath certain ones to draw attention to them, with glass windows protecting each weapon. Some of them even looked experimental, and privately developed. The lighting on the ceiling however, was nothing to boast about and the floorboards seemed to creak no matter how you moved on them. The entire room smelled of oil and bleach, not a nice combination. Slade searched for any trace of his radio, eventually coming behind the counter to a series of shelves and cabinets. Slade eventually began to search through them.

Peabody finally recovered and managed to choke out a few words. "You...here...me?"

"No I wasn't here for you, I don't care if you're an arms dealer, I actually might need one." Slade opened a few more drawers while giving Peabody a sharp answer.

Slade kept looking for his radio to no avail.

"Bottom shelf...left." Peabody guided.

Slade followed his guidance and found his radio, immediately attempting to contact Samuels. However, he found the radio empty. "Please don't tell me you destroyed this!" Slade exclaimed with panic.

"No, the parts are in that shelf, I was looking for a tracker." Peabody answered honestly.

"Paranoid much?" Slade remarked in a tone reminiscent of Wintergreen.

"Careful." Peabody defended.

"So what do you sell other than guns?" Slade asked.

"A few things, none for free." Peabody began to attempt to move.

"Should've guessed, never understood you people." Slade spat.

"What do you mean?" Peabody rubbed the blood streaming down his nose from Slade earlier assault.

"Why money? Is it really worth it?" Slade got rather angry, this anger not coming from the situation but a personal reason involving his older brother.

"Some of us were abandoned by the only things we had, family, government, etc. It's what we are good at." Peabody answered in an empty tone, as if remembering something.

"But how do you justify the things you do?" Slade continued to wonder.

"I don't, I just live with it, I don't really care anymore." Peadnody didn't really think about the often, he just did things.

"So why you on the run anyway?" Slade finally asked.

"I was abandoned by the people I worked for, powerful people." Peabody brooded.

"A government of some kind?" Slade wasn't interested much, mostly because he thought Peabody was a liar.

"Much, much bigger than that, but if I tell you, you'll be dead before you get home." Peabody laughed darkly, wishing he was joking.

"Subtle. So why'd they abandon you?" Slade inquired.

"I was expendable that's all. They had me do something and once I did it, they left me out to dry. They own America, Russia, China, Britain, everything. So there basically nowhere I can hide." Peabody stated without an inch of care of how he sounded.

"Paranoia isn't airborne is it?" Slade chuckled to himself in disbelief.

"You laugh now, but you'll know what it's like one day." Peabody's demeanour dropped.

"What?" Slade took offence to the comment and began to feel an unsettling feeling of inner denial.

"To be abandoned, betrayed by your own country." Peabody almost sounded like he was nostalgic.

"Never going to happen." Slade pushed his emotions away, taking comfort in complete denial.

"Mr Wilson, how did you become an agent?" Peabody cut to the chase and Slade was confused by his change in attitude and tone.

"Went through a programs, impressed the right people, became a patriot." Slade just shrugged off the question.

"No, what drew you to it?" Peabody inquired further.

"I guess it was just...what I'm good at." Slade again shrugged off the question, denying the feelings inside him.

"Do you really want to be an agent?" Peabody asked him directly with no tone or emotion.

"..." Slade then turned his attention back to finding the missing pieces.

Slade eventually found the piece he was missing and put them back together over a series of minutes. Peabody was still recovering from Slade's assault and thought about reaching for a gun but decided not to, he would rather make a deal. Slade managed to get the radio working and tuned it to Samuels frequency.

Slade contacted Samuels full of shame. "Major?"

"Slade! Where have you been? Where is Adeline?" Samuels exclaimed.

"Adeline was a traitor, she joined whatever his name is, DeadBorn. The prick, she shot me. Twice." Slade explained with a slight sting of embarrassment.

"Damnit! How did you escape?" Samuels further question Slade, now angry.

"They think I'm dead that's what matters, I need to get out of here." Slade evaded.

"Do you have confirmation of Nuclear?" Samuels has brought up the actual mission, which made Slade feel like he accomplished something.

"Yes, but I think Wintergreen was killed." Slade admitted.

"At least that's over with. I need you here in Washington, Reagan demanded your presence. I'll send extraction over."

"Ok, I'll sit tight." Slade turned and looked over at Peabody. An idea struck him that should've really struck him before. "What do you sell?"

"Weaponry, information, hell-anything with a price tag. Why? You wanting something?" Peabody inquired.

"Do you do favours?" Slade's idea formed fully.

"For a price." Peabody smirked, wiping his nose.

"How about protection?" Slade cocked his head to the side.

"Explain." Peabody got the smell of a deal and jumped on it.

"If you promise to help me out if I need it, I'll keep you off the record. No mention of you to the US." Slade promised.

"Mmm, ok, but if you double cross me-" Peabody replied after careful consideration.

"I won't. Now, show me what you sell." Slade ordered.

"With pleasure." Peabody replied with a rather large smile.

 **3 Days Later...**

Slade walked into his briefing room. He always hated briefing rooms. They were stuffy and full of tension. These mission were usually designed by the people who would gladly send others to their deaths before heading off to fight the battle. Cowards. But they were necessary evils. I mean, he knows that he can't just walk into a mission blind and expect it to work out.

Ever since the Congo mess, Slade has been under extreme surveillance, and untellable pressure. He felt vetted and uncomfortable in his bed, never a good sign. Samuels had given him a beat down in the reports, blaming him for the failure of the mission to cover his own ass for never fully investigating Adeline. But he still got off too easy. Slade hated that. So when he was asked to enter a briefing room for almost certainly the last time, he shivered at the chance. Slade was now on his way there, regretting every step he took.

However, Slade was denied access to Langley and so called up Samuels. He immediately regretted it. Apparently, due to the secrecy of the mission, Slade was now fired from H.I.V.E and was to meet with the President to discuss the matter directly. That's never a good sign. So Slade went home and waited in his chair and watched TV. Slade hated waiting. Patience came with age in his opinion and he had none today. He used the hours of boring time he had to think about Peabody's question.

"Do you really want to be an agent?"

The idea had never struck Slade, he just found himself with talent that could be used. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to be agent or a middle-class man. He could've just simply became a normal person. He had that choice. But what drew him towards this life is another story entirely.

At a young age, Slade found himself with a need to impress people, to earn their confidence. The reasons for this were simple, he could never impress his parents. They were always about his brother, Wade, god knows where he is now. Slade was thrown out of high school due to his lack of respect towards the teachers. So at the age of 15, Slade enlisted in the army, lying about his age. From there he worked in Guerrilla Warfare, a tactic he was very skilled at. He could predict enemy numbers and set up ambush points with little effort and maximum effect. He even used a set of Guerrilla Warfare tactics to save him and all his men in '76 when they were under attack from Russian forces in an blacksite. For this, he was highly regarded. His efforts were rewarded with a chance to join H.I.V.E, a select group of soldiers trained in espionage. He gladly accepted and this promotion not only granted him respect, but notice from his parents. Too bad they died in a bombing before he saw them again. The bombing was blamed on Wade who defected to Russia in '78 and hasn't been heard from since. The Russians may have killed him, or they may have him as a valuable asset, either way, he's dead to Slade, not that the two had a close relationship. Slade devoted himself to his work after this, and has become one of the most important tools in the military's arsenal.

But Slade's mental state is nothing but a question. He answers all questions correctly and is clearly in control but his house is empty with only a TV, a chair and a mattress. He was involved with a woman, Lilli, but she faded from his life and now they don't talk. Slade has never really looked at his life but upon hearing this question, has actually put some thought into his future. He wants nothing and has no one. Is it only a matter of time before he dies? Or will he end up like Peabody? Or maybe, will he become something worse? But, with self-reflection which may lead him down into levels of his conscience he never though existed, Slade looked at his watch and learned that the time was 9:15 PM. Still nothing.

10:10. Nothing. Slade went to sleep.

11:35. Nothing. Slade had woken up and made himself a breakfast seeing as though he's lucky to sleep 5 minutes.

12:50. Nothing. Slade was a rather amazing cook and ate the weirdest and most obscure dishes, everyone has a hobby. Rose scented bavarois poached figs, one of his favourites.

0:35. A knock. Slade opened his door to find two secret service agents standing outside his door in suits.

Slade went with them to a black SUV. He sat in the middle back seat with two agents beside him. He wondered what this briefing really was. The drive from his house to The White House was long and agonisingly slow. Nobody talked either through orders or breaking the perfect silence. Well the expection being the tyres that seemed to hum lowly for far too long. Even when they arrived all Slade could hear was that low hum, maybe it comforted him, seeing as though his nerves died down a bit.

Slade was brought through multiple rooms, all with the same bland layout, and white walls. If half of the money that went into decorating the White House went towards the military, their forces would increase tenfold, in Slade's opinion. Slade was eventually let go to walk down the hall to the briefing room. Now he was in the metallic part of the White House, the 'safe' part that bugged him to no end due to the fact that everything felt so unsafe from there on, like anyone could die at any point. Always a happy thought.

Slade opened the metal doors and looked around to understand his predicament.

Their was a large wooden table leather seats around it. In each of these seats was a large white male with the exception of one black male, who were decorated. Assuming they were the Joint Chiefs, Slade decided that this mission was almost certainly going to kill him. Major Samuels stood just off to the side of the table, talking to the commander-in-chief himself, Reagan. Slade assumed the immediate salute position trying to impress those around him as everyone's eyes seemed to drift to him. He was feeling nervous but almost satisfied with himself, knowing that he was the most important man in the room when the President is looking at you is an accomplishment to say the least.

Without a single word, Slade walked over to the nearest empty seat and sat there and waited for someone to stop looking at him and walk over. However, he was not expecting Reagan himself to walk over and open with, "Slade, we need your full attention."

"Of course, sir." Slade replied without emotion.

Everyone attention was then drawn away by the projection the appeared onscreen and detailed an Operation: Defused.

"This, gentlemen, is not going to leave this room. As you all know, Adeline Cain has defected to the Russians. The previously thought dead group of assassins, Cold Claw, have recruited their old member. These people, these things, are meant to be dead. Along with The Spiders and The Network. However, these will take a backseat to Nuclear. We are sending Mr Wilson in order to either capture this weapon or destroy it. Preferably capture it for us. We are also authorising the elimination of Russian representative, Dimitri Petrov, and Chinese representative, Jiao Li. This operation is strictly eyes only. Any mention of it outside this room will result in incarceration. Mr Wilson, if possible, download any schematics for this weapon." One of Chiefs droned on and on, losing Slade attention as he instead decided to case every inch of the bunker. New environments deserve as much attention if not more than people.

As everyone turned back to look at Slade, he nodded in agreement, if not exactly knowing what it is he's agreeing to. The meeting continued to bore Slade, all he could think about was how much hatred he held towards Adeline. How can you just turn your back on everything you've worked for? What does it take to do that?

After the meeting ended, Slade was invited to the Oval Office to meet with Reagan. Becoming suspicious, Slade obliged and met with Reagan. No one else was present and Reagan had a haunted expression on his face. This was obviously, a private matter.

"Hello Slade." Reagan attempted a smile but training taught Slade to see not only through it, but through him.

"Sir." Slade replied firmly.

"I have another operation I want you to execute. Operation Fire Storm. This was carefully crafted by a handful of people, and if you choose to commit to it, the country will be in your debt." Reagan tried to persuade Slade but he made the fatal mistake of appealing to Slade's ego.

"Sir, and if I choose not to?" Slade understood that if he didn't commit, black bag and blacksite.

"Then you don't, and we move on." Reagan replied unconvincingly and almost venomously.

"If I may, sir?" Slade inquired.

"Of course." Reagan handed Slade the file marked 'EYES ONLY'.

Slade quickly read through it but to cut to the basics, it was a hit on almost everyone involved in the project. This was not a mission, this was a contract.

"Operation Defused will provide a smokescreen for Operation Fire Storm. Defused has two objectives, eliminate the nuclear threat and destroy Nuclear completely or if possible, seize control of Nuclear and return it to the US. Fire Storm has multiple objectives such as eliminate The Network, eliminate Cold Claw, eliminate The Spiders, eliminate Dimitri Petrov, eliminate Jiao Li and if possible, rescue Bill Wintergreen, as his knowledge of the project may prove useful." Reagan basically ordered Slade.

"I'll do it." Slade answered without hesitation, Wintergreen doesn't deserve to be tortured to death for wanting some money. Slade had a very caring nature, so the thought hadn't occurred to him that he would have to kill people, people who were in this for reasons unbeknownst to him.

"That's that then, now go meet with Major Samuels, he'll further brief you on their information." Reagan ordered Slade again

Slade turned and left without a word. On his way out, he passed Bell who was shocked by Slade presence. Bell walked into the Oval Office and saw Reagan light a cigarette.

"Mr President?" Bell asked in a worried tone, higher than his regular tone.

"Bell." Reagan didn't even look at him.

"Did Slade take it?!" Bell raised his tone, leading to an irritating sound which made Reagan wince.

"...yes." Reagan replied after taking a smoke and drawing out the 's'.

"This is wrong. He has no idea what this means!" Bell raised his tone even higher, earning a glare from Reagan, who then turned around to look out the window.

Reagan looked out through the windows of the oval office, already letting his greed get the better of him in Bell's eyes. "Y'know Bell, I never really liked espionage. Too indirect, too slow, too boring. The Chinese and the Russians want us to assassinate the opposing representatives. Slade's a good agent, great even, but he won't be able to kill them both. Whichever one he kills first, the opposing country will be on our side. Imagine that, we are almost certainly going to eliminate a superpower and build trust with the other." Reagan smiled to himself, then remembered why he was really doing this and it immediately faded.

"Sir, I proposed this idea as an idea, we are sending that man to his death!" Bell shouted disapprovingly.

"Don't you think I know that? But one mans life cannot be worth more than every American citizen." Reagan snapped.

"Unless it's yours." Bell spat without thinking.

"Get out. And don't ever address me like that again." Reagan commanded after a long silence.

"Sorry, sir." Bell added faint spite to the last word.

"What the Syndicate wants, it gets." Reagan looked at a picture of him and Patti Davis, his daughter, "ones life IS more important than every American citizen." Reagan saw his reflection in the window, but couldn't bare to look at it. He turned away and sat in his seat, head in his hands.


	3. I'm Not Proud Of My Actions

Slade is now under the code name: DeathStroke. This was to be his alias for the entire mission. He had a variety of different goals but only two mattered to him. Adeline and Wintergreen. Samuels blabbed on and on about his mission but DeathStroke didn't care. This was one of those moments where he understood that he was going to almost certainly die.

DeathStroke trudged through the dry land. He stayed low and out of sight. He hugged the walls and never pulled a trigger. He had been given the approximate location of Wintergreen by Adeline but this was not only a nuisance to Samuels, but almost pointless as Wintergreen is certainly on the brink of death.

Most of his life had been like this. Passing by, trying his best. He had only amassed a body count of 37 since his first mission. Murder was never his strong suit although he had an unnatural knack for torture and tactics, he hated killing. Killing to him didn't mean to end a life, it meant to close a route of life, a chance of redemption. He always gave second chances. Plus, being paid to kill people was a major bother to Slade. Not that he could deny the appeal of being paid to kill the scum of humanity, but rather people just being people. Most of the world is like that and Slade hated the world. He didn't like to brood but he prefers to ignore these thoughts in his head in favour of looking ahead. Not to mention his secret drug habit but that was nothing to do with the mission at hand. Thank God he decided to sneak some cocaine with him. It was his version of adrenaline, except a lot more fun. He might need that later.

Approaching the location of Wintergreen, Slade had seen at least 4 hours go by without seeing a soldier. This was troubling to him, but not in a nerve-racking way, more of a 'am I in the right place' way. Running into an open patch of marsh, Slade made his way around on a nearby ledge. However, what he failed to realise is that he was now under a road. He made an attempt to shimming along the side of the ridge but as the ground grew distant, the sound of a nearby truck grew closer.

Slade slowed his movement as he quickly realised what he was under. He heard something extremely heavily being slowly dragged, which was followed by a variety of different sounds of following trucks, probably carrying foot soldiers. By the sound of it there must've been around four or five trucks, including the heavy object. Around a hundred soldiers above him, approximately. He wasn't likely to be found, but also not even remotely close to safety. Slade began to move faster, his steps and the falling rocks masked by the overwhelming engines. After reaching the end, Slade decided to take a peak at what he had passed.

Climbing up and barely getting his head above the rock, he could see what was being moved. It was that Nuclear weapon. About a hundred feet tall, metal, sharp, white and grey, reflective and somewhat human, the massive beast seemed to have mechanical fingers, an over should cannon and some kind of ray on its back. Slade climbed up and rolled along to a small boulder and used it as cover. He watched the monster and trucks vanish and began to wonder just what he was up against. Sidelining the super-humans and insane mission directives, who the hell was capable of making something like that?

Turning around, Slade was stunned by the scenery. It truly was beautiful but he had no time to dwell on beauty. Slade continued his trek through the jungle, now following the road. Slade was growing weary though, too long without contact made him tense. He eventually stopped following the road and could see the safe house from a mountain ridge. He carefully made his way down but upon arrival at the bottom, he froze. A shadow had crept up on him.

Silence. Nothing. Something was off. Deathstroke slowed his movement and put his safety off. He recognised the distinct raspy breathing he could faintly hear. Anatoly, a man he had come across a long time ago. A branch snapped behind DeathStroke and in one swift motion he turned a shot his attack in the eye. Anatoly' life was extinguished in an instant. The kill had surprised Slade, he didn't act in thought but instinct.

One down, two more to-his back was cut and he was drop-kicked into a tree. Hitting his head hard and probably earning a concussion, Deathstroke dropped a tear gas grenade and made a break. Jumping into a ditch and sliding down under a log, Deathstroke realised he had abandoned his weapon after the attack had occurred. Drawing a combat knife and holding his breath, Deathstroke began to inch his way forward while prone.

He heard rustling and rolled behind cover. Silence followed this move. Too open, too quiet and too bright, he began to think through their strategies. The had seen him and were co-ordinating an assault. Boris was headstrong and known for his grip, but Vera was a knife expert and avoid direct contact. Making the assumption that they assumed he was right handed, which he was, Boris would attack him from the right and counter his attack but as a distraction while Vera plunges a knife in his back, his back was against a tree, his only secure side. Judging by their patience, they were currently devising this strategy and were about to execute. Counter-measure were need. Change of secure side then, Deathstroke shifted his body so that he was facing the left and held the knife ready to throw behind him.

Time went by and what felt like hours was mere seconds, but Deathstroke was patient. A succession of loud footsteps closed in distance behind him but he didn't move. Timing was everything.

Deathstroke waited until he could hear Boris's breath and threw the knife behind him, eliciting a loud agaonised grunt from Boris. Deathstroke then rolled into Boris's legs, tripping him over. Deathstroke then grabbed a nearby branch and plunged it into Boris's kneecap. Deathstroke got into a crouch position and readied himself. Vera made her move and lounged at Deathstroke but he grabbed a stone and cracked her over the head with it before she could launch a stab. DeathStroke stood up, walked over to Boris, ripped out his knife and kneeled down. He covered Boris's mouth and in one fast movement, he opened his throat and pushed his head up, instantly sealing his fate. Deathstroke then looked up and saw that Vera had gone. But she left a blood trail.

Deathstroke followed this, judging by the amount she was losing, she wasn't in any state to fight. But if there was an alarm nearby he was screwed. Hurrying his hunt, Deathstroke found the trail to end suddenly. With his knife ready for a ground assault, he backed up against a tree and crouched, listening for any movement. He heard breathing and dripping, but there was no one around him. Quickly realising where she was, Deathstroke change his stance and went prone, holding his knife under him.

She clung to the tree, holding a knife and prepared to pounce. She was done anyway, the stone dented her skull, not much can fix that. She held her breath and prepared to throw her knife but her vision was blurry from the blood and her hand-eye co-ordination started to go. She opted to fall onto Deathstroke back and pierce his heart. She was only a four metres above him any way.

She dropped and in the second she did, she gasped. Deathstroke turned completely and pushed his knife out towards Vera. She fell straight onto his knife, it tearing through her skin and into her heart. Her hand hadn't lost momentum though and her knife landed in the empty space between Deathstroke head and shoulder, narrowly cutting the adjoining tissue between his neck and shoulder blade.

Deathstroke watched the light behind her eyes vanish and pushed her off of him. Her blood had dropped into his hair and made a crimson red patch on his head. Getting up and regaining his nerves, Slade saw his pistol reflect off the sun and picked it up, turned around and continued walking through the jungle, nearing Wintergreen's location.

Having reached the location of Wintergreen, Slade immediately realised that he was not there. However, what he didn't expect, was to be pinned down in an armlock and to hear a familiar voice.

"Don't say a word." Adeline ordered.

"You little..." Deathstroke tried but was silenced by a slight twist in his arm.

"I'm under orders from Reagan, I'm working undercover, I know all about your mission and you need to head west to find Wintergreen. Now shut up, do it and contact me on channel 141.34 once you've got him."

Deathstroke glared at Adeline and she loosened her grip. Deathstroke got his arm free and counter Adeline, getting her in a headlock and knocking her feet out from under her.

"Five seconds to give me a reason to trust you." Deathstroke demanded.

"I have a location on Wade." Adeline was either telling the truth for once or lying through her teeth, the latter seeming more likely.

"Liar." Deathstroke spat.

"Do this and I'll prove it." Adeline bargained.

After ten seconds, Deathstroke freed Adeline and left.

The encounter was quick, barely lasting two minutes, but the thought was stuck in Slade's head. It bothered him but he had no idea why. Shrugging of his seeds of doubt, he followed a river to the west. Eventually he came to the small camp. He surveyed the area from a hill, but was losing track of time due to the setting sun and his need for sleep, food and water.

The camp was almost makeshift. There was one brick structure in the centre, presumably where Wintergreen was, surrounded by four tents, barely able to fit three men in each, a barbed wire fence and presumably proximity mines. Doing some quick math led to the assumption that at least 8 men were currently awake. Night shift would cut that down to 6. One hour before nightfall. The guards walked in a circular format, protecting the perimeter. Three walked clockwise, three walked anti-clockwise.

Deciding to kill time, Slade began hunting for any form of food available. He washed his face and body in the river he followed, managed to eat some disgusting meat and got 15 minutes rest.

He surveyed the area once again, he checked his ammo, he had around 30 bullets on him, two tear gas grenades, three fragmentation grenades, a combat knife and a secondary ankle pistol. He used his binoculars one last time and saw that 2 or 3 men had turned in. He began to move towards his goal.

Deathstroke, being the fearless man that he is, used the back of the camp as an entry point, the waste exit, if you will. He had infiltrated the camp but was unsure whether or not he should eliminate everyone. Choosing the 'too thin out the herd' ideology, Deathstroke moved into his first tent and opened the three members throats. He crawled out and entered the second tent. Three more open throats.

On exiting the second tent, the 6 awake guards became his primary concern. They walked in groups of three, meaning stealth was impossible. But with darkness on his side, Deathstroke decided to lay a trap. He dragged the bodies out the tents and placed three on the ground, two he dismembered and scattered and one in a corner. He done this in around 2 minutes. When one group came across a body part, they panicked and began to investigate. But Deathstroke was no idiot.

He hid behind the body in the corner and waited until the three soldiers followed his messily constructed trail of blood. They were bearing him now, ten metres estimated. With precision and a steady hand, Deathstroke raised his gun and fired one shot into one soldiers head, two shots into another's chest and one into the remaining soldiers chest. However, before firing the final shot, the soldier shot at Deathstroke, hitting the body in front of him. Deathstroke finished the soldier off with one shot to the throat. He had around 15 seconds before the other three arrived.

Deathstroke pushed the body off him, reloaded, sheathed his pistol and picked up a soldiers rifle. He quickly worked out the direction they would take and hid behind one of the recently dead soldiers. Two soldiers approached from the right, one from the left. Deathstroke was facing the two soldiers and opened fire. He really didn't expect such recoil.

Managing to rip one soldier apart, the other took cover and the one behind him began to fire. The body absorbed the shots and gave Deathstroke time to run through the gates and lay down cover fire for himself. On his way out, he shot out the alarm, rendering the soldiers alone with him. He ran near a tree and with the rifles ammo depleted, he unsheathed his pistol and climbed up a tree. The two remaining soldiers had obviously made an attempt to sound the alarm, failed and were now about to go hunting. Taking a rock with him before climbing up the tree, Deathstroke broke off a piece of bark and threw it beneath him. The faint sound gave the soldier the hope of stealth. But Deathstroke knew how to draw attention. He wanted to conserve ammo and so decided to sheathe his weapon, take out his knife and carefully aim the rock. He threw the rock at the head of the soldier trailing behind and dropped onto the one beneath him, cutting into his throat.

The soldier who had now earned a concussion fired clumsily at Deathstroke who quickly took cover but couldn't avoid getting a graze on his forearm. He heard the click of an empty magazine, came out from the tree and threw his knife directly into the soldiers head. The soldier dropped with a thud, Deathstroke pulled out his knife, cleaned it, and returned to the camp.

There stood three men, not soldiers. One was big, muscly and square, looking rather dumb. He was shirtless and had awful brown hair that looked like a car crash. He matched the description of Volume. A man who can increase the size of an object whenever he touches it.

Another was a blond, 30 year old man that was wearing a dark blue skintight outfit, he fit the description of Fast Forward, a man who had the power of telekinesis.

The last one was almost a combination of the other two, although he matched the description of UHF, a man that can release Sonja waves.

They all froze, Deathstroke calculating every possible battle tactic and they probably waiting on an order coming through from their earpieces. The rain began, not a light rain, a heavy rain, an unforgiving rain. The mud began to liquidate, the chances of precise movement decreasing slowly. Deathstroke hand inched closer and closer towards his gun. Slower and slower. Water dropped off them as the rain got heavier and heavier.

Without a word spoken, Deathstroke drew his weapon and shot at them. His bullet were frozen mid-air by Fast Forward. Volume threw a rock at Deathstroke which became massive, UHF charged up his sonic waves and hit the rock, it speeding off at Deathstroke. Deathstroke flipped to the side and threw a tear gas grenade between them. With them blinded, Deathstroke moved in and shot UHF in the leg, kicked him in the stomach when he kneeled then roundhouse kicked him in the head.

Volume shouldered Deathstroke from behind then stomped on his hand. Deathstroke grunted in agony then stuck his knife through Volume's other foot and punched him in the groin. Volume recoiled in pain but was stuck to the ground. Deathstroke punched Volume in the nose, grabbed his head, forced it into his knee, elbowed the back of his neck and kicked him in the immobile knee hard enough to snap it inwards. Deathstroke ripped the knife out Volume's foot then tripped him.

Dropping his foot on Volume's throat, Deathstroke was blown away by a sonic blast. He landed in a tree and fell down some of the branches before catching himself, getting a deep cut down his thigh. The smoke was clearing so Deathstroke hid behind the tree, using it as cover and watched as Fast Forward and UHF found each other. UHF tried to grab his communicator and call for backup but Deathstroke jumped out the tree and shot him in the hand and stomach, disabling the backup. Barely catching himself again and probably breaking a rib, Deathstroke landed on another branch. Fast Forward picked up the tree Deathstroke was on with telekinesis and attempted to throw it but Deathstroke jumped off and fired at the two men.

Deathstroke managed to clip Fast Forward in the kneecap but had to move fast avoid another sonic blast. He barely avoided it and stumbled from the force he felt. Deathstroke then had to avoid a variety of different falling trees as he neared the two men, one of whom couldn't even walk properly anymore. Running directly at UHF, Deathstroke kept firing at Fast Forward, who continued freezing his bullets. Deathstroke rolled a grenade down at them and jumped in the air, getting frozen by Fast Forward. UHF blew Deathstroke away but failed to notice the grenade he left.

Deathstroke grabbed onto a vine and swung back around, kicking the barely surviving UHF in the chest. Fast Forward was missing a significant portion of his face at this point.

UHF fired another wave at Deathstroke, who flipped over him entirely, shooting both of UHF's kneecaps off in mid-air. Once landed, Deathstroke took out his knife and spun, sending his blade directly into UHF's throat. Deathstroke then took it his knife and kicked UHF's body.

Deathstroke ran over to the brick structure and shot the lock off, surveying the room. It was bright, had white wallpaper and a man with a hood chained inside.

"Come to beat me around some more?" The familiar voice of Wintergreen spat.

"No, here to save your ass." Slade replied, removing Wintergreen's hood.

"You? Well, this is strange, you're not who I was expecting."

"Don't be so kind." Slade tried to smile but considered the things he'd just done, happiness was a long way away.

"Why did you come back for me?"

"Felt obligated, now come on." Slade ordered, breaking the chains.

Slade took Wintergreen to the river he followed, ignoring questions about the bodies. He wasn't proud of killing those people.

"I've got a friend, if you follow the water he'll be there. His name is Peabody, and you can trust him. Take this," Slade handed Wintergreen one of his few weapons, his ankle pistol, "contact me when you meet with him. If I tell you to go, go. You got it?"

"Thank you Slade, I'm in your debt. I won't forget this."

Slade smiled to himself, someone actually cared. "Sure, now go."

Wintergreen made his way off down the river. Slade kept that smile to himself. Someone who cares. Slade then contacted Adeline on the frequency she'd demanded but there was no reply. Had she sold him out? Who was she working for? What's her goal? However, this deep thinking was cut short by the safety of a gun being switched, creating a recognisable sound next to Slade's ear.

"Surprise asshole." Came the voice of DeadBorn before Slade's world cut to black within seconds.


End file.
